Chapter 306
Daphne
I drop Elliot, and he's unconscious, crumpled on the floor like the pathetic creature he is. The world returns to normal—the cracks sealing, the errors fading, the oppressive weight of the system's panic receding.
But my body is still burning.
Still wanting.
Still betraying me with every fiber of its being
With mechanical movements, I look at the nearby bottle of alcohol. Cheap club vodka. I grab it, smash it against the wall, and use a shard of glass to stab myself in the palm.
The pain is bright and sharp and clean.
It drags me through the fog, through the haze, through the chemical screaming of my own biology. For a moment, I can think again. Can breathe again.
I walk out.
I drive myself to the ER.
The nurses are efficient, professional. They stitch my hand ;nine stitches, a crescent-shaped scar I'll carry for the rest of this life. They flush the drugs from my system, run tests, ask questions I answer with monosyllables.
